


Faded From This Touch

by allwaswell16



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Chair Sex, Desk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Famous Louis, Flirting, Hair stylist Harry, Haircuts, Kissing, London, M/M, Non-Famous Harry, Oral Sex, Pining, Riding, Singer Louis, Smut, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 04:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allwaswell16/pseuds/allwaswell16
Summary: Pop star Louis Tomlinson is about to make his long awaited return to music. Unfortunately, his label and manager feel his long hair isn't in tune with his pop star image. When Louis goes to get a hair cut at a posh London salon, he unexpectedly finds a very handsome reason to keep returning.





	Faded From This Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nottooldforthisship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottooldforthisship/gifts).



> Happy birthday, [nottooldforthisship](http://nottooldforthisship.tumblr.com/) ! I hope you have the most wonderful day, my friend! You are so kind and lovely and deserve all that is wonderful! You were one of my very first cheerleaders as a new fic writer, and you gave me the encouragement to finally post my first fic, which I'll always consider as "ours." I'm so glad I randomly asked you for that lyrics edit! lol! I'm so happy that fic brought me a friend like you, B! I hope you enjoy this silly, smutty birthday fic! 
> 
> More thank yous to my beta taggiecb, brit picker yousopugly, and inspiration melmanpur at the end! 
> 
> This fic was written for the 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names Fic Challenge. All other fics in this challenge can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name).
> 
> Prompt #770. The affectionate sense of knowing exactly what’s going on in his mind.

 

“You ready yet, Lou?”

Loud pounding on his bedroom door accompanies his manager’s words. Subtlety is not his manager’s strong suit. Perhaps he should just be thankful that Niall didn’t actually barge in. This time anyway.

“Your door’s locked, or I would have come in.”

Louis sighs and opens the door before Niall can break it down with his incessant knocking.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Niall asks.

Louis looks down at the track suit he currently has on and shrugs. “Why not? Aren’t we going to see a stylist today? Why would I have to dress posh to go see a stylist? That’s their job, innit? To make me look good? Also, we wouldn’t want to be late, yeah?”

Niall’s lips press into a line. Niall looks like he wants to argue but is holding back. He gets the feeling Niall chooses his battles with him. He wonders whether he should admit that he slept in this particular tracksuit. Probably not.

“We don’t have time to argue about it, so fine. Wear that.”

Louis silently congratulates himself for playing to Niall’s need for punctuality.

“Go comb your hair though. We have time for that.”

Louis gives him a look that would wither a weaker man, but Niall is immune to him by now.

“Don’t give me that look. You’ve got some kind of mullet going on. At least comb it or something.”

Louis flicks him off on his way to the bathroom where he splashes some water on his hands and then finger combs his hair a few times before holding it all back with a thin red headband. He re-enters the room and gestures to his hair.

“Am I approved to leave the house now?”

Niall sighs. “Sure, mate. At least now you look a bit like a footie player, I suppose. Wish you looked more like a pop star making his long awaited return though.”

>>><<<

The fittings with the stylist go quite well actually. Much better than Louis had anticipated. It helps that he just genuinely likes the bloke. He and Steve seem to click immediately, and he actually has fun going through the racks of clothes in Steve’s studio.

“I really think we can keep this streetwear vibe you’ve got going on, Louis.” Steve assures him. “It’s very _in_ right now.”

He sends an I-told-you-so look at Niall who just rolls his eyes. “Well, thank you, Steve. It’s been so nice to meet you and have _someone_ appreciate my look.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Steve says, smiling brightly. “I’ll send out what we’ve chosen right away. And I’ll have those trousers altered for you as well. I’m going to reach out to a few designers who might be interested in seeing you in their clothing now that we’ve got a style to go forward with.”

“Whatever you think,” Louis says, deferring to Steve, as he gives him the standard half handshake, half bro hug.

Niall claps his hands together, looking somewhat pleased at the progress. “Okay, time to get your hair cut, Lou.”

Louis freezes mid-bro hug. “What?”

Niall checks his phone presumably for the time. “Your appointment is in about fifteen minutes, which is fine because the place I’m taking you to isn’t far from here.”

“I’m not getting my hair cut,” Louis says flatly. Hell no. He’ll wear whatever the fuck they want him to wear, but he’s not cutting his hair. Sure it gets a little messy looking, but he hasn’t had a haircut in well over a year at this point. It’s making him feel sort of panicky to even think about it.

Niall’s lips press into a flat line again. Louis wonders if Niall’s lips are getting thinner from pulling this face so often.

 _“Louis,”_ Niall says in a tone that Louis can tell is meant to be threatening.

 _“Niall,”_ Louis returns.

“You can not do promo for your new single _with a mullet.”_

“Long hair does not mean I have a _mullet,_ Neil.” Louis snorts. “Look at Steve here. Look how nice he looks with his long hair.”

Steve brushes his long black hair off his shoulder. It looks like something out of a shampoo advert.

“Yeah, well, Steve’s hair looks like it belongs in a shampoo ad. Whilst yours--” Niall doesn’t finish his thought.

Louis crosses his arms over his chest. “Mmhmm. What was it you were going to say then?”

“--yours needs a trim,” Niall says as though he’s saved the conversation. “I’m sure Steve gets regular trims to keep his hair looking so beautiful, dontcha, Steve?”

“It’s true.” Steve replies. “I don’t know where you’re going, but I highly recommend Clarity. I always get a scalp massage, and then they finish with an infused hot towel, which I think really gives my hair that extra sheen it has.”

“Well, I’m sure Steve knows what he’s talking about, Nialler. Let’s wait until I can see someone from this Clarify place.”

“It’s _Clarity,_ and that’s where I’m taking you. We now have ten minutes. Go get your arse in the car.”

Louis sighs as it’s clear Niall has won this round. He goes and gets his arse in the car.

>>><<<

Louis walks warily into the gleaming white of the reception at Clarity. He’s hit instantly with the scent of lavender that seems to permeate the air. He refuses to acknowledge to himself that it might be a bit soothing. The brightly lit room comes across as refreshing and clean compared to the streets and traffic that aren’t far off. Although this place is certainly located in the poshest place possible. How Niall ever thought this was the place to take him, he doesn’t know.

He opens his mouth to object to it all.

“Don’t start.” Niall warns without even looking up from his phone. “You just agreed to do whatever your new best friend Steve tells you, so just--do it.”

The receptionist seats them in a lounge where Louis watches other men--posh, spa-going men apparently--working on their laptops as they await their appointments. “Harry will be right with you.”

 _“Harry?”_ Louis mutters to Niall who pretends to not listen. “Who would become a barber if their name’s Harry? Too close to _‘hairy.’_ Just setting yourself up for a lifetime of bad jokes.”

“I quite like the jokes.”

Louis’ head whips around at a man with a slow, deeply rich tone that has just caught him out.

Louis stares up at one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen in his life. And he’s seen a lot of good looking men. He’s a fairly successful pop star for fuck’s sake. Luckily, his attitude works on autopilot. “Good because you’ve really set yourself up for them, mate.”

“Maybe that was my plan.” The man _\--Harry--_ smiles.

Dimples. Fucking hell. Louis tries to avert his gaze from them. Unfortunately, this just leads his eyes down Harry’s body.

His lean torso encased in a tight black t-shirt.

Louis swallows.

The wide-leg black trousers, an invitation to admire the length of his legs.

Louis inhales quickly.

The black ink stark against the muscles of his biceps and forearms.

Louis bites his lip.

The long fingers glinting with rings.

Louis squirms.

He suddenly realises they’re speaking.

“--but I’m his manager--”

“I’d like my client to get the full Clarity experience. And he can’t do that if his manager is hovering over him.”

“Well, he doesn’t want to cut his hair, but obviously--”

Harry’s lips press into a firm line, and Louis wonders what it must feel like for Niall to see someone giving him his own annoyed look. “I won’t be doing anything my client doesn’t want me to do.”

Niall turns to Louis to argue with him instead as Harry seems immovable on the subject. “Lou, you _have_ to get your hair cut! Please! We have photo shoots! And press to do!”

Louis shrugs nonchalantly as he stands up to follow Harry.

“Just remember.” Niall adds desperately. “If you get it cut now, you never have to come back here ever again!”

As Louis sits in the sleek, black leather chair and gazes up into Harry’s extraordinary green eyes, he finds he would most definitely like to be coming back here to see this fit barber--hair stylist--whatever his title might be. Harry positions the chair so that Louis faces the mirror. They stare at each other through the glass for a moment before Harry runs his hands over Louis’ hair a single time.

“Shall I take off the headband?” Harry questions still watching him through the mirror.

“Sure.” Louis replies. Take the headband, take whatever you want, take me, he thinks.

Harry threads his fingers around the thin red elastic and tugs it out of Louis’ hair.

“Okay, now we can really see what we’re working with here,” Harry says with a smile.

Louis smiles back a bit helplessly.

Harry continues to run his fingers through Louis’ hair as he speaks. “It sounded like your manager is pressuring you to cut your hair. Is there a specific cut or style that you’re concerned about? Because I can assure you that you’d look bloody fantastic in any of the trendier cuts.”

Louis has grown used to fawning over the years, but for some reason he can’t help but respond to it when it’s someone this fit. He lets his eyelashes flutter a bit before looking up at Harry from beneath them. “Really? You think they’d look good on me?”

Harry’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open a bit. He looks a bit dazed. Well, well, well. Louis knows this look when he sees it.

“What--ehm--did you--right.” Harry fumbles. “Oh, yeah--ehm--yes. Yes, I think they’d look--nice.”

“Just nice? Hmmm--” Louis pretends to be thinking.

Harry blinks and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Whatever loss of control Harry seems to have just experienced is gone as quickly as it came, although he’s still quite complementary. “Yes, the newer cuts are all cropped quite closely to the head, which I think would only help accentuate the beauty of your face. In particular, I think your cheekbones and jawline would be even more distinctive.”

Louis frowns. He dislikes this almost clinical analysis of his face.

Harry seems to misinterpret the look though. “Your manager seems to think you’re opposed to any cut though. I can say that I understand that quite well myself. Until recently I had hair much longer than it is now. It’s quite hard to explain to people sometimes how attached we can grow to our hair.”

“What made you decide to cut it?” Louis asks, watching flickers of emotion dance across Harry’s expressive face.

“I put it off for so long that it finally grew long enough to donate, and once I realised that, well--”

“Ah, I see.” Louis stares, even more intrigued now by this tattooed angel with a soul. In Louis’ line of work, a soul is unfortunately rare to find.

“I’m not sure that’s really an option for you, Mr. Tomlinson, but I’d like to reiterate that _you_ are my client, which means I’m here to give you what you want.”

Louis raises an eyebrow at that remark, but Harry doesn’t flinch. He’s back to being all business to Louis’ great regret.

“Louis.” He responds. “Please--call me Louis.”

Harry hesitates, but then he meets Louis’ eyes in the mirror and says quietly. “Louis.”

>>><<<

“I can’t believe all the money you just wasted getting your hair trimmed a half inch.” Niall mutters. They’re headed up a lift to the label offices.

“I’ve spent my money on worse things than Harry Styles. And besides, my hair looks all shiny and shit after that infused hair towel thing.”

“Harry Styles? Thought you were spending money on your hair.” Niall eyes him critically, but the doors slide open before Niall can say anything further. The meeting goes well, and no one at the label says anything about Louis’ hair. He guesses no one wants to say it to his face, and instead they’ll just badger Niall about it.

He guesses right.

He’s not been home for even an hour before Niall calls about his hair. “Lou? The label wanted to know why you haven’t cut your hair yet.”

“Well. Niall. Did you inform them that yes, I did indeed get my hair cut today? Niall, you were there, remember?”

“Of course, I bloody well remember I was there! But you barely let Harry touch a hair on your head!”

Louis just sniffs. “You don’t seem to understand at all what a travesty this is for me to have to cut it. But go ahead and make me another appointment to see Harry. I’ll see what I can part with again.”

Niall sounds suspicious, but ultimately he must decide to choose a different battle for a different day with Louis. “Great. I’ll make the appointment. And just so you know, most everyone felt you should actually cut it, not just a trim.”

“So not everyone thought I should cut my hair then, is that what I hear you saying?”

He’s pretty sure he can hear Niall grind his teeth. “Fine, one person thought you should keep it long. One! Are you happy now?

“Oh sure, loads of happiness over here. Who was it?”

“Logan. And probably only because he wants to get in your pants.” Niall scoffs. “Please just cut your fucking hair.”

>>><<<

Louis waits impatiently again in the gleaming white of Clarity where he’s seeing Harry again for the second time in two weeks. He’s convinced Niall to let him come alone today. Niall actually didn’t put up much of a fuss about it, which is a bit odd in retrospect. Before he has much time to think on it though, Harry emerges dressed like a fucking daydream. His shirt hangs open, only a few buttons in use, and Louis can see the hard planes of his chest and the hint of dark ink peeking through.

He swallows though his mouth’s gone so dry he nearly chokes. “Hi,” he manages to croak out.

“Hi, Lou,” Harry answers cheerfully as though he isn’t wearing the tightest black jeans Louis has ever seen. “Long time no see.”

Louis flushes. “Yeah, well, apparently almost no one at the label thinks me having long hair is a good idea.”

“Almost no one? So someone _does_ think it’s a good idea?” Harry queries as he guides Louis back to the sleek leather chair that he remembers quite well seeing as how he was just here.

“Uh--yeah, one guy thinks my hair’s okay. ‘Course Niall says it’s just because he wants in my pants.”

Louis has been watching Harry’s reflection in the mirror and sees when Harry’s eyes jump to his at this admission. Harry doesn’t say anything, but Louis can see the tick in his jaw.

“So Louis, what would you like me to do to you today?”

Christ. There’s quite a long list in Louis’ mind actually. None of which sounds appropriate for this precise moment in time. “Ehm, go ahead and give me a trim.”

Harry twists his nose up into an odd scrunch that Louis can’t help but find a bit--endearing. “Louis, I trimmed your hair less than a week ago. It doesn’t really need a trim.”

“Yes, well, didn’t you once tell me that you’d do whatever I want you to do?”

Harry coughs. “I’m not sure I put it in quite those terms.”

_“Harry.”_

_“Louis.”_

“Please?”

Harry sighs. “It’s your money, Louis. If you want to pay my rent just so you can have another half inch taken off, I won’t stop you.”

“And don’t forget the infused towel! That counts as something, too.” Louis gives him his most winning smile.

“Of course. The towel.” Harry hides a smile poorly.

“And the scalp massage. Honestly, Harry, I’d come back just for that.”

Harry snorts, but Louis can see the pleased look on his face. “I do give a bloody good scalp massage. Well, I give great massages in general really.”

Louis feels his muscles tighten at the thought of Harry giving him a full body massage. Fuck, he’d never make it through a massage like that with Harry. He didn’t make it through the scalp massage last time without letting out a few moans.

“So, um--do you do that here then? You give full body massages?” Louis asks hoarsely as Harry runs his fingers through Louis’ hair.

“What?” Harry pauses his fingers and looks a bit bewildered. “Oh. No, no, no, no.”

He lets out a loud honking laugh and then quickly covers his mouth as if to hold any further laughter inside.

“Ehm--no. I only work with hair. I--uhh--meant just that I think I give a good massage to--people. Um--like significant others and such. But we do offer massages here--just not with me, but like with a professional masseuse.” Harry glances away and sets out a comb on the small counter in front of him.

“Ah, I see.” Louis tries his best to hide his disappointment. Of fucking course Harry has a significant other. Just look at the man. “Well, I hope they know how lucky they are.”

“Oh. Well, um--thanks. I don’t really have anyone to give full body massages to at the moment. But--” Harry runs a hand through his own hair this time and huffs out an embarrassed laugh before picking up his scissors and setting them out as well. “Er--didn’t mean to make that sound--yeah.”

Harry turns him in the chair to face away from the mirror. “Ready for a shampoo and massage?”

“Looking forward to it,” Louis says as he hops up from the chair to follow Harry across the room to the line of shampoo sinks.

“Afraid I’m only offering you the scalp massage, mate--well, here anyway.”

Louis bites his lip as he sinks into the chair. What did, “well, here anyway” mean? Is Harry flirting with him? Fuck, he’s been so off his game for so long he can’t even tell anymore. He’s spent the last year hiding away from most humans and just working on his album.

The warm water combines with the feeling of Harry’s hands in his hair, massaging his temples and scalp. It’s almost too much to handle. He lets his eyes flutter closed and feels relaxed and sated in a way he can’t really remember ever feeling before.

As though Harry knows what he must be feeling, he speaks quietly in his deep, slow tones about how he wants Louis to feel at ease here. How he wants Clarity to be a retreat from the pressures of Louis’ life. How he can always come here for what he needs. If Louis could even make his blissed out mind speak, he would agree to come here every day.

Harry is a dangerous man.

>>><<<

Niall seems very unhappy.

“Louis! What in the actual fuck, mate? Did you even go to Clarity? Don’t answer that. I can see by the sheen of your hair and the fucking ridiculous look on your face that you’ve been to see Harry.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis bristles a bit at Niall’s tone as they go through the rack of clothes Steve has sent to his house.

“It means I’ve known you for far too long to not know what you’re doing.”

Louis turns his entire body towards the clothes and away from Niall. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you most certainly fucking do. And to answer your unasked question, Harry is gay. And single. I had someone ask around.”

Louis whips back around to Niall’s smug face. “Niall, what have you done?”

Niall’s face has transformed into the smirk of the century. “You have a photo shoot next Tuesday. Be there thirty minutes early. Harry will be there to cut your fucking MOP of hair.”

>>><<<

Louis doesn’t need to wear anything nice to the historic theatre where they’ll be doing the photo shoot. Clothes will obviously be provided by the fashion magazine that’s doing the shoot, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to look his best. Be professional. That kind of thing. Nothing to do with seeing Harry again.

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s far too long to be fashionable right now, but it does look quite shiny and feels quite silky what with having two trims and two treatments in the past three weeks. He slips a headband over it to hold it back and searches through the long rack of Steve approved clothes in his walk-in closet. He finds a closely fitted Valentino jacket and hopes he isn’t looking like he’s trying too hard. It still looks casual, he assures himself. He makes sure to wear more closely fitted trousers as well. Might as well show off his best assets. Or arsetts as the case may be.

That’s the joke he tells Niall when he arrives at the theatre precisely thirty minutes before the shoot when Niall tells him he’s vaguely beginning to resemble a pop star.

“Thought I’d show off me best arsetts, lad!” He chuckles at his own joke before he realises that he hears someone else laughing along with him. He hadn’t noticed Harry walk in behind him.

Harry looks like a dark angel.  He’s dressed quite similarly to the first time Louis laid eyes on him, all in black looking ridiculously delicious standing there, dimples out. The dimples snap whatever thread of restraint Louis has been clinging to. He doesn’t even try to control the expression on his face, which he’s sure Niall will tell him all about later.

Harry looks to Niall. “Any idea of how to get backstage? I’m sure there’s a decent dressing room back there where I can set up my things. It really won’t take me too long to cut it. I’ve been giving a lot of thought as to what style I think would work best with Louis’ bone structure.”

“I’ll bet you have,” Niall mutters under his breath. Louis steps on his foot.

The theatre has a backstage dressing room reminiscent of one from an old movie. The small white lights around the mirror cast a soft glow. Harry motions toward the chair set in front of the mirror, and Louis lowers himself wordlessly into it. Harry whirls a cape around Louis’ neck and snaps closed the button he finds there.

He can see Niall’s reflection in the mirror. He’s standing just inside the doorway, watching them.

Niall claps his hands together. “Well, I’ll just let you two get to it then.”

Louis barely registers Niall’s departure because now he’s been caught in Harry’s clear green gaze, and he can’t seem to look away. There’s a charge in the air now that they’re alone. There was always a spark of something just under the surface in the salon, but now the spark has ignited. It crackles just under Louis skin with every touch of Harry’s fingertips against the skin of his neck as he gathers Louis’ hair and carefully brushes back the headband.

He can’t help but lean into his touch, mesmerised. Neither of them have spoken, but Harry watches him with a look of reverence on his face that he hasn’t seen there before now. When he does speak, it’s deep and husky.

“Louis?”

Louis doesn’t even answer. He just looks at him in the reflection of the mirror.

“May I cut your hair today?”

Louis nods. He’s afraid to speak and lose the heady feeling that’s making him feel a bit dizzy if he’s honest. Somehow, Harry’s voice only adds to the thick atmosphere rather than breaking it.

“I’m going to cut off the length with scissors before I use the clippers,” Harry says so quietly it’s nearly a whisper. Harry entwines his fingers with Louis’ hair and holds the strands out and away from his head to cut large swaths of hair that fall gently to the floor. The room remains silent but for the snip of Harry’s shears and the beating of Louis’ heart in his ears.

He doesn’t want to cut his hair; this is true. But if he’s being truthful, he can’t even think about that in this moment when Harry brushes gentle touches along his neck over and over again. Suddenly the touches stop, and Louis’ gaze darts to the mirror to see where Harry has gone. He watches as Harry plugs in an electric razor and hears the low buzz of it as Harry tests that it works.

The feel of the blade never comes, and Louis looks up searchingly into the glass. Harry holds the razor and a comb in one large hand, frowning.

“Louis, we never discussed a style, but I’m afraid we don’t have much ti--”

Louis finally finds his voice. “Harry, just do what you want with me.”

Harry looks like he might make a joke, but he appears to hold it back. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to do. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Fuck. Louis isn’t even sure what they’re talking about anymore. Are they really still talking about haircuts?

“Harry, I trust you to know better than me about this. You’re the expert, yeah?”

Harry hesitates.

“Just go ahead and cut it, Harry.”

Harry grins, deep dimples on display. Harry takes a few clips and pins up some of the hair on top of Louis’ head and then clicks the razor back on, a steady buzzing begins. Harry leans in closely, much more than he did when he was using scissors. Harry’s breath heats Louis’ cheek, and the sweet minty smell of it overpowers Louis’ senses. God help him, he wants a taste.

Louis concentrates on trying not to gasp at every caress of Harry’s fingertips against his skin. It’s quite difficult when the touch sends prickles of sensation across his skin. It leaves no room for Louis to be concerned with the hair currently being shorn from the sides of his head. When Harry seems satisfied with what he’s done with the razor, he turns it off and sets it down, picking up his scissors once again.

The chair Louis sits in doesn’t spin like the salon chairs and is set very close to the vanity of the dressing room. However, that doesn’t stop Harry from squeezing his lithe body between Louis and the counter. Louis holds a long breath as he’s confronted with an up close and personal view of Harry’s stomach separated from him only by thin fabric. He tries not to let his gaze wander any further south. Harry continues to snip away at Louis’ hair until he’s finally satisfied with the results.

Harry squeezes himself out of the way and then invites Louis to see what it looks like. The sides are cut close to his head, but the hair on top still has a bit of length.

“I like it.”

Harry smiles. “I’m glad.”

Louis watches as Harry squirts a bit of product into the palm of his hand and then rubs his hands together. Christ, he’s got lovely hands. They watch each other intently in the mirror as Harry runs his slick fingers through Louis’ hair. Harry twists the strands about a little here and there to style it properly.

“Lou?”

Louis isn’t even sure when Harry started calling him Lou. Was it today? Last week? It doesn’t matter. He could get used to hearing it.

“Mmm?” He manages to answer.

Harry makes a motion over his own face signalling the scruff on Louis’. Oh. “Think I should trim it up a bit?”

Louis swallows. “Probably. Thanks.”

Harry nods and adds a different attachment to his razor. If Louis thought Harry leaned in closely to cut his hair, it’s nothing compared to having Harry touching his face with careful pressure, nearly cupping his chin, as he trims Louis’ beard. Louis tries not to imagine what it would be like, what it would lead to, if Harry were touching him like this outside the context of being his hair stylist. He’s so close now that if he turns quickly enough, Harry’s pretty pink lips would be close enough to kiss. Of course, if he did that, he’d probably end up accidentally slashed across the face. Probably not a smart move.

The razor clicks off with a zip before Louis is ready for it to end. He’s not at all ready to lose the feeling of Harry’s touch against his skin.

Louis leans back in the chair and looks up into Harry’s face. “All done?”

“Yep.”

Louis exhales more loudly than he intended. “I--guess I won’t be seeing you after this, so thank you--”

“Well, that might not necessarily be the case.”

“Oh?” A surge of hope shoots through him.

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Well. You could always come in for a hair treatment and a scalp massage. And in a few weeks, a trim.”

And the hope dies just as quickly as it came.

“Yeah, I could do that.” He replies, flatly.

Harry begins gathering his things and putting them back in his case. Louis stands up and moves out of his way and then turns towards the door.

“Oh, and Lou?”

Louis turns back. Harry’s still facing the mirror, and Louis watches his reflection. Harry’s eyes cast downward as he collects the attachments for the razor, but the pink colour high in his cheeks intrigues him.

“I could always see you without scissors in my hand--if you wanted to see me outside of work that is.”

Louis can see himself in the mirror, his eyes widening and his lips curling into a smile. “Is that right?”

Harry looks up and meets his eyes in the reflection, green to blue. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well, Hazza, I’d like to see you at any and all times, but most especially without scissors in your hand. In fact, as soon as I’m done here, I’d love to take you to dinner--or really anywhere you want to go.”

Harry lowers his eyes and nods prettily. “I’d like that.”

>>><<<

Harry stays.

Louis walks out onto the theatre stage and does a series of photographs in various poses wearing pieces from high end designers. The photographer seems quite happy with the sizzle in Louis’ stare. He says it makes for great photographs. Louis tries to keep his eyes off Niall’s smug face and instead on Harry, who is the obvious reason for the added spark in his eyes today. The intensity of his stare as Louis models for the camera makes him itch to be able to finally touch Harry back.

When he’s back in the dressing room, he quickly strips off the garments from the photo shoot and pulls on his own clothes from this afternoon. The knock at the door brings a smile to his face.

“Come in,” he calls out.

Harry peeks in and then allows the door to open fully as he sees Louis fully dressed. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Louis can’t help the absurd smile he knows is plastered across his face, and he’s quite happy to see it mirrored back on Harry’s face.

Suddenly, there’s a less welcome face peeking over Harry’s shoulder.

“Hiya!” Niall says with a wave. “Fancy seeing you still here, Harry.”

Harry bites his lip. “Ummm--”

“Shut up, Niall.”

“Well, quite rude, Tommo. Especially seeing as how I have made dinner reservations for you in an hour and a half. Wasn’t quite sure when they’d be done here. Guess you’ll both have a little time to--get ready.”

“Oh.” Louis says, surprised. “Well, cheers then, mate!”

“All the info is in the text I just sent you. So see you both later then.” Niall turns as if to leave before turning back. “Oh, and that’s a very nice haircut, Louis.”

“Alright, alright, get out.” Louis waves Niall off. “I have a pretty boy to take on a date.”

“Well, if it would be okay, we could go back to my flat first, so I could change into something more appropriate for a date.”

“Of course, Harry. Although I think you look quite beautiful as it is.”

Harry scrunches up his nose cutely. “Thanks, but these are my work clothes.”

Louis follows him helplessly out onto the street. He’s not sure he can handle seeing Harry in whatever Harry considers ‘date’ clothes. Fucking hell, Harry’s work clothes have been a revelation unto themselves.

There’s a car already waiting for them, courtesy of Niall, of course. When they seem to be in the general area of Clarity, Louis frowns. Surely a hairstylist can’t afford to live in the posh area the salon is located, but the car does indeed pull up outside a row of flats that Louis knows must be incredibly expensive to live in.

He gives Harry a questioning look, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice. He follows Harry to the lift and up to a flat nearly entirely white, but for the restored wood floors. In fact, the flat is so white it very much reminds him of Clarity. Oh.

“Harry?” He calls out as he stands looking around Harry’s spotlessly clean living room.

“Yes?” Harry answers presumably from his bedroom.

“You wouldn’t happen to _\--own_ Clarity?”

He hears a bark of laughter, and a, “Just a minute.”

Harry emerges from his bedroom, and Louis’ mouth hangs open involuntarily. The cream silk shirt he’s wearing only buttoned halfway. He looks like a fantasy come to life, standing there in white in his gleaming white flat. He has a fleeting thought that this must be what heaven looks like. The only thing missing is angels singing.

“So I’m surprised you didn’t already know, but yes.” Harry says, a sideways smile on his handsome face.

“What?” Louis honestly has no clue what he’s talking about.

Harry looks at him curiously. “I was answering your question. About Clarity?”

“Oh.” Right. Clarity.

“So yes, I own the Clarity nearby and all the other ones, too.”

“Other ones?”

Harry smirks, and it has the side effect of making Louis’ heart race. “Yes, Louis. Did you really think Niall would send you anywhere but what he considers to be the very best?”

“Fair point. My stylist, Steve seemed to impressed with Clarity, too, so I did realise Niall was sending me to the best. I just didn’t realise he was sending me to the owner. Didn’t really think the owner of posh places like that actually still saw clients.”

Harry clears his throat, and his cheeks stain a pretty pink colour. “Ehm--well, that’s--mostly true.”

Well, isn’t that suspicious. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Hmmm?”

Louis doesn’t repeat himself. Just stares Harry down with one raised eyebrow.

Harry breaks so easily. Good to know.

“Okay, I _maybe_ possibly saw your name on the schedule and decided--” Harry shrugs. ”I should take on a new client once in a while.”

“Mmhmm,” Louis says with a wide smile. “Now, what about me in particular made you suddenly want to take on a new client?”

Harry bites his lip. “It had nothing to do with you being incredibly fit. I’ll tell you that much.”

Louis laughs out loud.

“Nothing to do with me being very excited about your new album. Nothing like that.”

“Harry!” Louis exclaims. “Are you telling me I’m on a date with a fan?”

“Oh, are you famous? What is it that you do then?” Harry shuts the door to his bedroom in an exaggerated manner. “Nothing to see in there. No posters of any ridiculously fit pop stars.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Bet there’s obscene posters of me in just my pants hanging up on the walls of your posh flat.”

“Heyyyyyy, that photo shoot was artistic! Very lovely use of natural light against your bum.”

Louis doubles over with laughter, and Harry joins in.

“No, really I don’t have posters of you hanging up in my bedroom.” Harry opens the door wide for Louis to peek inside. “But I did take you on as my client, so I could ogle you because I’ve fancied you for ages. But like in the most professional way.”

“Yeah, yeah. Professional. Sure.” Louis can’t wipe the huge smile off his face. “Well, shall we leave for dinner? Before you tie me up and kidnap me?”

“Ehm--yes.” Harry coughs. “That visual was a little--much for me.”

“Liked that did you?” Louis smirks before heading towards the door. He adds a bit of a swing to his hips. “Well, we’ll have to see where the night takes us.”

They walk to the restaurant as it’s quite nearby, situated just past Harry’s salon. Louis feels mildly concerned that Niall planned this so thoroughly. The restaurant is luxurious and discrete, hidden back behind a gate and with a leafy outdoor terrace. They have a deliciously sumptuous meal, the soft light seeming to accentuate Harry’s loveliness as he speaks in his absurdly deep voice and tells the absolute worst jokes Louis has ever heard. He may have laughed at a few of them.

Street lamps light their way as they walk in the direction of Harry’s flat, but Harry hesitates just outside the door of a now closed Clarity.

“Would you like an after hours tour?”

Louis glances up at Harry’s face, and he likes what it seems to be promising. Louis nods, and Harry busies himself with opening the door with fumbling fingers.

He places a hand on Harry’s shoulder instinctively as though to calm Harry’s nerves. Harry instantly relaxes into the touch, and the door swings open. Harry turns to face him, eyes gleaming in the dim light. Harry makes no move to turn on the lights or to begin giving a tour, so Louis advances on him, walking him backwards into the reception desk. He hears a small whimper escape Harry’s throat as the back of his legs hit the desk. It sounds like the best thing he’s ever heard.

Louis isn’t sure who reaches for the other first. It’s likely they both reacted simultaneously to the desire that crackles between them. Louis’ lips crash against Harry’s before softening to savor the silk of his lips, but the kiss soon turns hot and demanding as Louis traces the seam of Harry’s lips with his tongue until Harry opens to him. He lets his tongue explore Harry’s mouth, tasting the intoxicating combination of both the wine they had at dinner and something sweet that seems to just be Harry. He presses his body against him, and he finds the frantic pulse at Harry’s neck with his lips.

The whining noises coming from Harry’s mouth spur him on further, sucking and soothing the spot he’s found that seems to causing this reaction. Harry’s hands roam Louis’ body. First clutching at the back of his shirt, and then moving them lower so that he’s pressing his long fingers into the firm flesh of Louis’ arse. Louis slips his thigh between Harry’s and captures his lips again in a messy kiss. Harry rocks his hips against him, and Louis can feel how hard he is in his tight trousers.

The few buttons of Harry’s shirt have come undone, and Louis doesn’t even know if he unbuttoned them or Harry did. It hardly matters. What matters is that Louis can touch the skin he’s ached to touch for weeks. He lets his fingers trace the outline of Harry’s tattoos and then lets his tongue follow their lead until he’s kneeling in front of Harry. He looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes, and Harry looks down at him, his lips bitten red. Louis waits for an answer to a question he has only asked with his eyes.

“Fuck, Louis. Please.” Harry begs.

Louis flicks open the button and unzips the zipper and tugs down fabric until Harry’s cock is released. He holds Harry firmly against the desk with his hands, and Harry gasps as Louis takes him into his mouth, slowly at first, finding a rhythm as Harry’s moans fill the room.

Louis undoes his own trousers and reaches a hand in to palm at his own hard cock, his mind growing hazy at the touch. Harry must feel the change in position because he notices what Louis is doing. “No.”

Louis stills.

“No, Lou. Don’t want to come like this. Will you--”

Louis lets Harry slide out of his mouth, and Harry’s hips stutter forward. Harry tugs him back into a standing position, and Louis looks at him, questioning.

“Will you fuck me, Lou?” Harry asks quietly.

Louis isn’t sure what exactly Harry means. They’re in Harry’s salon, and Louis certainly had no idea this was how his day was going to end. He’s woefully underprepared for this. “I don’t have any--”

“I--um--brought stuff with me.”

“Harry, you little minx. Are you saying you planned this, too?”

Harry’s face is aflame with colour. “Just thought I’d be prepared. You know. If I decided to go through with seducing you in my salon on the way home from dinner.”

Whatever nerves Harry had seem to vanish as a wicked smile lights up his face. It’s stunning and leaves Louis in a bit of a fog before he realises that Harry is taking his trousers and pants completely off. Harry stands before him looking like a debauched angel; all he’s wearing is an unbuttoned cream silk shirt for fuck’s sake.

Harry takes him by the hand and begins leading him over to the area of the salon where Louis first came to get his hair trimmed. They stand in front of one of the swiveling black leather chairs and Harry begins to rapidly undress Louis. When he’s fully nude, Harry pushes him into the chair and climbs into his lap. It all happens so fast that Louis is struck momentarily dumb to suddenly have Harry straddling him. But then their cocks slide against one another and now Louis is the one making all the noise.

Harry wordlessly rips open the small packet of lube, and Louis takes it from him, coating his fingers. He kisses Harry deeply as he lets his wet finger rub against his hole.  Harry gasps into his mouth at the sensation. Harry clutches his shoulders as Louis presses one finger inside him as they press their bodies closer together. The silk of Harry’s shirt drives him mad at how it caresses over his skin. It’s a madness he’s thankful for to be honest.

Louis presses in another finger and then eventually another, stretching him to be ready to take him in.

“I’m ready, Lou. Please--please--I’m ready.”

As soon as Louis’ fingers leave Harry’s arse and he’s slid the condom into place, Harry suddenly bucks up and seats himself on Louis’ cock.

“Oh fuck!” Louis calls out.

And then, Harry begins to ride. Harry presses frantic kisses all over Louis’ face and neck and shoulders as he moves his body up and down atop Louis.

“You like that, Lou?”

“Been dreaming about your cock, Lou. It’s even thicker than I’d imagined.”

“God, you fill me up so good, so good.”

Harry pants as he picks up the rhythm, and Louis guides their bodies with his hands on Harry’s arse.

“Fucking hell, Harry.”

“Fuck, you feel so good on my cock.”

“I’ll fill you up, baby. Fill you so good.”

They press sloppy kisses against each other as they ride together towards the precipice. Louis can feel the hardness of Harry’s cock against his stomach as they press in and out together. Louis can feel his orgasm begin to build, creeping up his spine, and so he grasps Harry in one of his hands and begins stroking in time with their movements. And just like that, Harry is coming into his hand with a shout.

He bucks up into Harry’s arse--one, two, three more times--and then he’s coming, too, filling the condom inside Harry. They stay just as they are for a few moments, panting into each others mouths, Louis still inside him. Harry finally climbs off him with a groan as Louis slips out of him. Harry reaches out for a towel from his station and wipes them up a bit

Louis isn’t really sure what to do next as he lays back in the chair, still a bit dizzy from the escalation of his day.

“Would you come home with me, Louis?”

Louis looks up into Harry’s big green eyes filled with hope and lust and something more.

“Of course, I’ve been looking forward to that full body massage.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos or a comment if you liked the fic! Here is [the tumblr post you can reblog](http://allwaswell16.tumblr.com/post/169267123686/faded-from-this-touch-written-by-allwaswell16) for this fic!
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta [taggiecb](http://archiveofourown.org/users/taggiecb/pseuds/taggiecb) for always holding my hand. And thank you so much to my Brit picker [yousopugly](http://yousopugly.tumblr.com/) for going over this so quickly for me and my procrastinating ways! <3 <3
> 
> Thanks again to [melmanpur](http://melmanpur.tumblr.com/) for [this Larry manip](http://melmanpur.tumblr.com/post/168676198194/famousnon-famous-au-hairdresser-harry) that was the inspiration for this fic! 
> 
> And another happy birthday to nottooldforthisship!


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